


The Perfect Package

by bookjunkiecat



Series: Savvy's Holiday Fic [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom Greg Lestrade, Christmas, Chubby Mike Stamford, Copper Greg dances to cheesy song, Flimsy excuse for stripper Greg, Greg is a size queen, Greg just wants someone to take care of him, M/M, Mike has the perfect package, Mike is thirsty, Mike's the man for the job, Mild Dom/sub undertones, NSY mandated sexy times, Size Kink, Top Mike Stamford, charity ball, they're definitely gonna do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21682891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookjunkiecat/pseuds/bookjunkiecat
Summary: Mike Stamford is a man comfortable in his own skin, and tonight he's going to be more comfortable in nothing but his own skin--and with a lap-full of Greg Lestrade, if everything goes the way it looks it shall.
Relationships: Mike Stamford/Greg Lestrade, stamstrade
Series: Savvy's Holiday Fic [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558120
Comments: 18
Kudos: 39





	The Perfect Package

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siriusblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusblue/gifts), [BrynTWedge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynTWedge/gifts).



> Day 5 prompt: hot chocolate  
> Yeeeah, I kinda cheated with this one. The group Hot Chocolate totally counts as fulfilling the prompt, right? Right?
> 
> This fic is a gift to sirius and bryn, both of whom share my love for Stamstrade. Love you guys <3

Mike Stamford was  _ transfixed.  _

He enjoyed a party as much as the next extrovert, loved a good time in fact, and if it was in support of a good cause, so much the better. When he’d been invited to the Metropolitan Police’s Red-Handed Santa gala, Mike had agreed happily. It was a charity ball, complete with two hundred pound a plate dinner, silent auction, and a strip show.

It was the strip show that had his attention so completely. 

Given that it was the Met, and for charity, it was all pretty tasteful, and no actual nudity involved. It was more like a risque cabaret show, but with a lot of layers being removed. A lot of fun and games, cat calls, hooting, and money being thrown at the stage. Mike chuckled along with everyone else in his party, and fingered the folded notes in his pocket. He’d come prepared to be generous, as was his wont, and while he’d bid on several items in the auction, Mike had yet to fling any money at the dancers. Before the dancing was all over he would be sure to donate the rest of his cash, but for now he couldn’t be arsed to fight his way to the edge of the stage.

Then Greg Lestrade came out.

Grinning saucily at the audience, strutting to the center of the stage as Hot Chocolate’s _ You Sexy Thing  _ blared from the sound system, Greg commanded attention from everyone in the place. Dressed as a street copper, but in trousers far tighter than standard issue, and wearing a shirt that was unbuttoned indecently low, with sleeves rolled to his biceps. He slinked, swayed and gyrated. Throwing winks at the crowd, he ran his hands over his own body, stopping to strike a pose before removing another piece of clothing.

By the time he was down to a pair of very brief black briefs and motorcycle boots, Mike was in a state.

Almost without being aware of it, he’d muscled his way to the front of the crowd, eyes intent on Greg. His money--the excuse for his presence there--was clutched forgotten in his hand. 

Greg, carrying a uniform hat, was sauntering around the stage, collecting more money with friendly insults, an adorable pretend pout, and rowdy encouragement for them not to be “tight fisted tossers.” Coming to Mike, he gave a friendly start of surprise, exclaimed, “Mike! Didn’t know you were here!” and knelt to hold out the hat. Smiling with his whole face, brown eyes brilliant as diamonds, Greg held out the hat with an appealing little nudge, “You got anything for me, Doc?”

_ I’ll say I have, _ Mike thought, mind flashing to a filthy, vivid image of taking Greg against a wall, feeling those strong legs wrap around his waist. _ Eight inches and then some, but I’ll start with a kiss. _

Greg’s eyes widened almost comically, and Mike heard his own words echoing in his head. Words he’d apparently just said out loud. They stared at one another from a few inches away, neither paying heed to the clamour of the crowd around them. “Greg,” Mike began.

“Not here,” Greg said hoarsely, putting one hand, damp and warm and rough, on the back of Mike’s. “Meet me out back in half an hour? I’ve got my car...we can go to mine and...talk.”

Dazed, Mike watched him go, elation rising. What had just happened?

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


What the fuck had just happened?

Mind fucked, Greg managed to stumble through accepting praise, laughing and talking with his coworkers. Back in the gents locker room he stripped off and took the fastest, most thorough shower of his life. It took a tremendous amount of fortitude not to grow hard in the shower. Particularly because he kept picturing the heavy, sensual look on Mike’s face, the way he’d said, “Eight inches and then some.”

Christ. Greg wouldn’t call himself a size queen, but he was totally a size queen. 

Trying not to appear as if he were hurrying, he hurried like hell to get ready and leave. Every delay was agony. Finally he managed to shoulder his duffle and slip into the corridor, intent on hitting the back door and ducking out to meet Mike. And then--God, he hoped every filthy fantasy and soft daydream he’d had about Mike Stamford was about to come true.

Clearing the back door, stepping out into the crisp night air, Greg was seized by a sudden, fierce desire for a cigarette. Something to quell his nerves. It had been bloody ages since he’d been on a date; the ending of his marriage had been brutal, and it had left him feeling fragile. He was too dispirited to try dating, not having it in him to approach strangers, set up a place and time, plan the night, try to be witty and charming. He spent the majority of his time shepherding people about, being the leader, making crucial decisions. Just once he’d love someone to take the lead, take the reins out of his hands. 

Despite the faint worry he’d had that Mike would stand him up, Greg spied him almost right away, leaning against Greg’s car, half-lit by the security lamp. A tightness he’d been unaware of until just then eased in his chest, and a happy sort of horniness swept over him at the sight of Mike’s half-smile.

“It’s been thirty-eight minutes,” Mike said, as Greg drew near. “You said half an hour.” His tone was playful, but with an edge of _ something _ .

That  _ something _ crawled into the small of Greg’s back, bit his spine and sent electric shocks straight to his groin. A soft  _ hunh _ left him, and it wasn’t his imagination that Mike smiled, slow and satisfied. He brought a hand up and stroked it lightly down Greg’s arm. It shouldn’t have affected him so strongly; it wasn’t even skin on skin, for God’s sake. Should he apologize? He wanted to apologize. That was eight minutes they could have spent together. “S-sorry,” he stuttered, and saw from Mike’s face that it was the correct response.

“Good boy,” Mike breathed, tone soft and fond and approving.

Greg nearly melted. Holding back a thankful whimper, he looked into Mike’s steady eyes, seeing the possibility of that elusive thing he’d been fruitlessly searching for most of his adult life.  _ Merry Christmas to me,  _ he thought dimly.

Maybe at Christmas, it was safe to believe in miracles. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry there was no smut in this one, but I am trying desperately to keep on top of these prompts, as well as work on my other stuff, and do my actual job, and still have a social life. Please rest assured that the two of them go absolutely wild with the outrageous animal-style shagging. They get no sleep that night. Greg's fucked--he doesn't walk straight for days. It's the beginning of a perfectly beautiful relationship.


End file.
